Running Home to You (The Running Series) (36 page)

“Where are we going, baby?”

“It’s time for dessert.  Let’s fuel up, then we’re going to do that again.  Ready big boy?”  I toss a towel to him, which he wraps around his waist as he follows me to the kitchen.  “So, what was on tonight’s dessert menu?” I ask.

Evan steps over to the stove and stirs the gooey liquid, which was nearly simmering only an hour ago.  “This,” he says, “is my version of a raspberry syrup.”  He pulls out two plates of what appears to be cold French toast.  My eyes widen in amazement as I begin to understand that he was making me a dessert from scratch with his own two hands.  “Don’t be too impressed,” he warns.  “French toast is about the only sweet thing I know how to make.  I found a jar of raspberry jam and maple syrup in the fridge, so I thought I would heat them up and mix them together.”  He shrugs his shoulders, “Kind of lame, right?”

I wrap my arms around him and give him a squeeze as big as my love and devotion for him.  “It sounds perfect.  Come on,” I lead him to the stove, “let’s make some fresh.  I’m starving.”

Hitting Pay Dirt

E
van and I are jolted awake at seven o’clock in the morning by his ringing phone. The blinds are closed and the room is dark. I would have loved to get another good hour’s sleep.  After Evan disentangles our bodies, he reaches over, grabs the phone, and answers, “Yeah?” still groggy and physically exhausted.  “No, I’m awake now.  What’s up?”  Evan stretches out his arm for me and I snuggle into his warm embrace.  “Right now?  Can’t you just tell me?  Fine, fine.  Give me ten minutes.”  He ends the call and tosses the phone to the side.  He pulls me close and kisses me passionately.  “Good morning, baby.  Did you sleep well?”

“Mm hmm,” I hum.  I run my hands up and down his chest, instinctively drawn to him like a moth to a flame.  “Who was that?” I ask.

“Adam.  He’s on his way over.  Something happened last night.  He won’t tell me over the phone.”  My mind races with possibilities.  Could word about his positive toxicology screening have somehow gotten out?  Did something happen with Ryker?  Is Auggie okay?  Certainly, if anything had happened to Auggie, I would have been notified right away.  Something is wrong, but what?

Evan gets up and fumbles around in the dim light until he finds a pair of shorts.  He heads straight to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and open the door for Adam.  Before joining him, I make a quick but necessary stop in the bathroom, and it’s a good thing I did.  My hair is a rat’s nest, sticking out wildly in every direction.  I tame it as best I can, toss it in a loose pony, throw on shorts and a t-shirt, then hurry to find Evan. 

I find him sitting on our loveseat, sipping a hot cup of coffee, and watching the early morning sun as it climbs into the sky.  When I get closer, I’m appalled by what I see.  Evan’s chest is covered in hickeys, big, bright red love bites.  He’s sitting there shirtless, seemingly not the least bit bothered.  “Evan,” I tell him, “hurry up!  Go put on a shirt before Adam gets here.  You can’t let him see what I did to you.”  I’m mortified.  What have I done to his beautiful body?

“Juliette, seriously?  After everything we’ve been through together, do you really think I give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks?  I’m not embarrassed or ashamed, and you shouldn’t be, either.”  He takes my hand and pulls me down into the love seat with him.  “Besides, it’s only Adam.  He’s seen worse – a lot worse.”

Just as I’m about to ask what that means, the back door opens and Adams walks out on the deck.  He has dark circles under his eyes and it looks like he’s been up all night.  “Shit, man – you look like crap.  What the hell’s going on?” Evan asks as the two shake hands.  Adam leans over and gives me a familiar peck on the cheek before sitting down and joining us.

“I just drove back from the stadium.  I got a call from Coach Vinciguerra a little after midnight.”  Adam yawns and takes a big gulp of coffee.  “He called in half the coaching staff and a bunch of us from Player Development.”

“Damn.  Sounds serious.  What happened?” Evan doesn’t seem the least bit worried.  He just sits back, sips leisurely from his mug, and wraps a protective and loving arm around me.

“Can’t say.  Not yet, anyway.”

“Then why the hell did you get me up out of bed?”  I curl up into Evan’s chest, wishing that we were cuddled alone in his bed rather than here discussing late night team meetings with Adam. 

“Coach Vince is going to call you any minute now.  I wanted to be here with you when the call came in.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Evan demands.  “What does this have to do with me?  You have to give me something, man.”  Evan rises from his seat and gets right in Adam’s face.  “Adam, just tell me.  Am I getting cut?  Did I get traded?”

“Sorry, Mac, but I promised Coach I wouldn’t say a word.  He doesn’t know I’m here and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”  Adam’s face is flat.  I can’t read him at all right now.  It could be a bad phone call and Adam wants to make sure Evan’s not alone when he hears.  On the other hand, it could be good news and Adam wants to share the moment.  Damn.  I wish I had a hint.

“Shit, where’s my phone?” he snaps at no one in particular, stomping off into the bedroom to retrieve his phone.  When Evan returns to us, he tosses the phone on a nearby table, and walks in circles around the deck. 

“Adam, can’t you give him something?  The poor guy’s about to have a stroke,” I beg.

“Yeah, you’re right.  I thought the call would have come in by now.”  Adam gets up and walks over to Evan.  “Listen to me, you have to calm down,” he tells Evan.  “When the call comes in, you have to sound surprised.”

“I will be surprised because you won’t tell me shit,” Evan barks back.

Adam struggles to find something he can say to Evan without giving too much away.  Finally, he opens up and shares, “Okay, this is all I can tell you.  Last night ...” His words are cut off by Evan’s ringing phone.  Crap.

Evan clears his voice to remove any tension before answering with a confident, “Hey, Coach.  What’s going on?”  He doesn’t stand still.  With phone in hand, Evan wanders around the deck, weaving around the furniture in random patterns.  Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks.  “Oh, no!  What happened?  Okay.  Okay.  What’s the prognosis?  Well, thank God for that.”  Evan quiets for a few moments, just listening to the coach.  A huge grin appears on his face, dimples and all.  Evan walks over to Adam and me with a spring in his step.  He’s smiling.  Not just any smile, a full-out goofy grin with dimples and bright, twinkling eyes.  “I understand.  I can do that.  Thank you, Coach.  I appreciate this opportunity and I won’t let you down.” 

As soon as Evan ends the phone call, he heads right over to Adam and gives him a punch in the arm, much harder than I think is necessary.  “What the fuck, Adam?  You let me think I was getting cut, you prick!”  He reaches out a hand to help Adam to his feet and the men exchange a quick, masculine hug with hard slaps on the back.

“That look on your face was priceless, man.  I thought you were going to shit a brick when that phone rang.  I wish I had a camera.  Between that and that crap all over your chest, I could make some real money off that one.  You know, sell it to all the tabloids with some bullshit story about Juliette torturing you and forcing you to do things against your will.”

“She does.  It’s terrible, actually.  She wouldn’t let me sleep last night until I ... until I ... it’s just too terrible to say!” Evan whines.  “I don’t know what she expects from me.  I’m only human, I have my limits.”  Evan sniffles like he’s tearing up.  “No means no, Juliette.”

“I don’t remember hearing, ‘no’.  The way I remember it was more like, ‘Don’t.  Stop.  Don’t.  Stop.’”

“You’re an animal,” Evan teases. He sweeps me up in his arms and plants kisses all over my face and neck.  “But I still love you.”

“That’s good to hear, because I’m not going anywhere.”  When Evan places my feet back on the floor, I demand to know, “Now, will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Matt Ortiz is out for the rest of the season with a serious heart condition.  The coach is moving me to the starting position, Juliette.  He’s making it official at a press conference later today.  I have to be down there by noon.”

“Oh.  My.  God.  Evan, that’s beyond amazing.  Holy crap.” 

“Amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it, Juliette.  Did I ever explain to you what a Playtime Incentive is?”

I shake my head, “No.”

“You need to sit down for this.”  Evan takes my hand and leads me to the loveseat.  He sits beside me and explains.  “There is a clause in my contract that awards a bonus for playtime.  In my years with the Texans, I’ve never even come close to triggering that clause.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, still not understanding completely.

“Sorry.  Let me back up.  If I play sixty percent of the snaps, I will get a $500,000 bonus.”

“Evan, that’s a half a million dollars!” I’m flabbergasted. 

“Well, if you like that, then you’re going to love this.  If I make it through the entire season, there’s a good chance I could get seventy or eighty percent of the snaps.  Seventy percent will earn me a million dollar bonus and eighty percent will pay off one point five million dollars.”  Evan sits back in his chair, running his hands through this hair and rubbing his head, trying to get the immensity of it to sink in.

“Tell her about the playoffs, Mac,” Adam insists.

“Juliette, if we actually make it to the playoffs, my bonus jumps to two million dollars.”  My eyes grow wide.  I can’t even wrap my mind around numbers like that.  Millions, not one, but two.  “But I have to tell you, the chances of a quarterback making it to the playoffs his first year with a new team is not great.”

I don’t even know what to say.  Evan already has enough money to keep us living quite comfortably.

“Let’s not forget that my good fortune comes at the expense of a really outstanding player.  Matt should have had a few more good years on the field.  He’s being taken out way before his time,” Evan reminds us.

“Mac, I think it would be a good idea for you to go see Matt after the press conference.  I can get someone from SI there,” Adam suggests.  “I’d like to document the passing of the torch.  It would show that Matt has confidence in you and that you have his full support.  It would mean a lot to the fans to see that.”

“I’m going to call Nicole first.”  Evan turns to me to clarify, “Matt’s wife.”  He returns his attention to Adam, “If Matt’s well enough for visitors, I’ll go, but without the press.  There’s no way, it’s just not right.  I’ll get the fans my way.  Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s at U-Penn in Philly.  It’s only a forty-five minute drive from the stadium.  He’s going to be there a while.  He’s lucky to be alive,” Adam explains.

I haven’t met Matt yet, but still I worry for him and his family.  “Adam, do you have any details you can share?  Do you know what happened?  Isn’t he a little too young to have a heart attack?”

“His wife rushed him to the hospital when he was having trouble breathing,” Adam explains.  “Have you ever heard stories about athletes dying suddenly without warning, especially after getting hit in the chest?  Young men, in particular, who seem to be in perfect health?”  I nod.  “Well, the main cause is a thickening of the heart muscles.  It’s called HCM which stands for Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, and in sports, it’s a killer.  Matt’s testing indicates his heart has the markers for HCM.  He’s lucky it happened when he was home with his family and not getting sacked on the field.  It could have been a fatal blow.”

“I wonder why no one picked up on it sooner,” Evan replies.

“I actually know the answer to that,” Adam explains.  “The team doctor was called in last night.  The coaches were afraid we might be liable for clearing him to play with a serious cardiac disorder like that.  It turns out that athletes’ hearts are larger than a normal heart.  Their hearts are stronger and pump more blood than average hearts, and are a major reason why the athletes can compete at the highest levels.  So an enlarged heart isn’t a warning sign, it’s an expected finding.”

“See Evan, I told you!  You do have a big heart.”  He just rolls his eyes.  That’s okay, I thought it was funny.

Adam fills us in on the rest of the details from the meeting.  There was some debate among the coaches about what would be best move for the team.  Not everyone wanted to go with Evan.  A few of them wanted to call Trent Darcy out of retirement.  But in the end, the best man won. 

Adam agrees to stay for a nice big homemade celebratory breakfast.  Evan has a few hours before he has to drive down to the stadium.  He spends that time eating, preparing what he wants to say at the press conference, and calling his father.  It’s the phone call every father dreams about receiving from his son.  Evan is just as excited to make the call.  Until now, there hasn’t been a lot of good news to share.